


"Life is crazy, Candy baby."

by FirebirdSong



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, hilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdSong/pseuds/FirebirdSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crazy night. A crazy life ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Life is crazy, Candy baby."

**Author's Note:**

> RP-based.   
> Season 1 - 2, kind of.  
> Enjoy.

Wilson poured the rest of the wine in his own glass in between a loud laughter. House was already so much fun, but he knew, as he was drinking more, that things were beginning to be _too much fun_. He wasn’t used to drink, and the smoothness was slowly taking over his muscles. But he’d been comfortable with the possibility right from the start, the dinner had been amazing and everything felt fine. He looked around the restaurant for a waiter, and when he made eye contact with one across the room, he raised the bottle a bit from the table to indicate they wanted one more.

House watched as Wilson’s low tolerance to alcohol began to be obvious with a big grin on his face. He knew he should stop him before he went too far, but James’ face was glowing with drunk happiness, and it was so funny and cute at the same time that Gregory just drank along, until the cheers began to sound too randomly absurd. Laughing, he tries to advert the other.

“Hey love, go slow. You’ve already had a lot, you’re not used to it.”

“Am I being annoying already?” Wilson frowns, but soon regains the steady face, leaning his back on the chair.

The smile on House’s face is full of an uncommon tenderness.

“Don’t worry, you’re never annoying. Well, maybe when you disagree with me, but this is not the case. I’m just warning you.”

Wilson shrugs. “Nah, you’re right. I won’t drink alone until I’m wasted. Last one then.” The wine disappears from the glass some seconds later. Wilson rests his elbows on the table and plays with the glass’ border. “Maybe I’ll just be sleepy soon. But you can take me to bed, I guess.”

He said innocently, but House smirks at the non-intentional innuendo. “I thought taking you to bed after was the purpose of going out and have dinner, but if you say you’ll sleep…”

Wilson chuckles, still resting on the table. “Look at you, all reasonable. It’s charming. But I have a thing on your bad boy style, what can I do.” He shrugs and goes on laughing, until suddenly stop with a thoughtful expression. “But, come on, it would take you a bottle to be like me now, wouldn’t it?”

Greg laughs and inclines his body towards the table a bit.

 “You don’t know how adorable you look with these flushed cheeks.” Shrugs mindlessly. “At least some tequilas or some whiskey are needed. Wine just puts me in a good mood, it doesn’t let me drunk.”

James whistles, admired. “I can’t have tequilas. I really don’t. Wine already leaves me loose enough, but at least I handle it.”

“It’s just a matter of practice. Alcohol tolerance is something you build with time, it doesn’t come for free. Not for everyone, at least.” House drinks some of his wine slowly, appreciating the rich taste exploding in his mouth.

The waiter brings the third bottle of wine of the night and stares at Wilson, finding the whole scene immensely funny. “Anything else, sir?”

Gregory looks at his drunken boyfriend and decides it’s time to take him home. “Yes, the check, please.”

The waiter leaves them with a small smile in his face, trying not to be disrespectful. James looks at Greg with a sad expression. “I’m feeling judged here.”

House laughs. “If it’s true, you shouldn’t care. You’re just having a bit of fun. Next time you’ll have a bit more tolerance to it.”

“You know I won’t. I don’t even drink, and I’ll already feel ashamed after here, probably.” His face changes and he smiles, looking a bit dazed and confused. “We are already on a taxi. Drink with meeeeee.” He playfully prolongs the last vowel, biting his lower lip for a moment after, until the smile take over his lips again.

“Sure.” Greg pours some wine to himself and just a tiny bit for Wilson, just to see his reaction.

James narrows sight, as if the glass was an enemy, and then looks back to House, this time quite naturally. “No, not in this place anymore.”

The other raises an eyebrow, grinning. “If not here… Where?”

The drunk doctor grins back. “I don’t know. You should be the one who’d have to take me somewhere. I can’t answer for myself now.”

The waiter brings the check and House pays it quickly. They leave the place and wait for a cab outside. Wilson looks around the street, pacing and turning around himself once, slowly. As he was sure to himself they were almost alone, he steps to House’s side, holding his arm and leaning his head on the other’s shoulder with a deep sigh.

 Greg  smiles fondly, a bit worried but not enough to show it. “Are you tired already, James? If you want to go home, just ask.”

“I am not.” James smiles and nuzzles playfully in the collar of his partner’s coat, nearly hugging his arm. “I’m just happy.”

“Well, I know of a place where we can go and enjoy the rest of the night then. Nobody will judge you for being drunk there.”

A taxi stops for them some minutes later. House gives the address to the driver and passes his arm around Wilson, holding him close. There was something very protective in every act of House, and it was making James feel foolishly delighted. He holds the other’s hand and snuggles under his arm. “Where, actually, are we going?”

“It’s a small bar, not far from home. It’s calm and nice, and there I can go on appreciating the drunk version of you.” Greg was obviously amused with James’ behavior under the influence of alcohol.

“Ok then.” Says a smiling Wilson, watching the streets passing through the window. When they arrive, there’s a nice pub in front of them, and James finds it a cool place to have a good time. Nevertheless, that night was a little unusual to House: as they came in, even though it was not crowded or messy at all, it looked more and more like a party.

House frowns. “What’s happening in here, is there some kind of… gig or whatever? I’ve never seen this place with more than five or six people. Well, let’s take a sit…”

A waitress holding a notepad interrupts him “Are you both here for the karaoke night? You’ll have to give me your names so I can put you on the list.”

Before House can even think of saying something, Wilson replies, seeming to be somewhere else, unaware of the situation. “Yeah, sure. James Wilson and Gregory House. Oh, can I have too tequilas?”

Greg raises eyebrows and tries to reason with his inebriated partner. “James, are you really sure you want to sing in front of everyone here? And I don’t think you need to drink more.”

“Singing? What, if my name is there I’m signing up to a show and they are going to force me to sing? Is this X Factor? No, no, if that’s it, I’ll just have the tequilas. Anyway dear, let it go for now, thank you.” The waitress directs a confused look to House, who just shrugs, and she leaves to the bar.

James turns to House as she goes away frowning. “Listen, I’ll confess something. It’s very important, and I have held this secret for too long already.” He breathes deeply. “As friends, I’ve always wanted to go out with you and drink. We used to have some beers, but I could never really drink, as friends do. It happened so rarely because I was always terrified that I could kiss you all of a sudden and scare you forever.” 

Wilson’s confession makes House feel funny inside, and he can only smile and come closer to whisper in the other’s ear. “Well, then I should have got you drunk long before.” He takes James’ hand and guides him to a table in the corner. “Here, let’s sit before that girl finds us and obliges you to sing.” His voice in a hushed conspiracy tone.

“They think it is just like that, don’t they? If they want me singing, they’ll have to speak to my agents!” Wilson sits down laughing. “But, actually… Maybe that’s a shame. I can’t sing, but you can. It would be quite a show. You, I mean.”

“Me? No, people generally dislike my unorthodox way of singing.” House decides to use longer words to test Wilson drunkenness, as well as speaking of multiple subjects to see if the other would pay attention to everything. “You know, I always think about how I appreciate these wooden tables. Maybe I should buy a new piano. It’s like, you’re really adorable tonight, and I could kiss you non-stop for hours. Do you think my living room would look good in green?”

Wilson’s lips part slightly as he loosens his jaw a little. As he tries to think, his confused expression has something naïve in it. “You’re messing up with me! I am not that drunk with that little of wine not to notice something weird on you talking about the color of the wood of the piano on your living room! Don’t be mean to me, House.”

“How dare you think I’d do something so horrible to you?” Greg fakes an offended face, that suddenly becomes alert. “Hide, Wilson! The girl is coming back.”

The waitress brings the tequila, watching Wilson with an amused uncertainty, not knowing what to expect from that funny drunk man, who just says thanks and stares at her until she leaves. He then turns his face to challenge House. “Drink it, or I’ll do it.”

“What do you want me drunk for? Well, nevermind, since, you’ve already had a lot, it’s only fair.” Greg drinks both shots at once, not taking his eyes off of his drunken companion.

“Look, I don’t want you drunk, I just don’t want you all reasonable while I’m being silly, it makes me uncomfortable. Plus, if we are not up to drinking we should really go home because there are plenty of better things we could do than t- OH MY GOD IT IS TOTALLY FOREMAN RAPPING THERE!” Wilson points to the screen behind the stage showing music videos and starts to laugh uncontrollably.  

“What are you saying, Wilson… You’re right. It’s Foreman!” House’s eyes sparkles with the new form of making fun of his insufferable crew member, and he laughs with Wilson.

“Are you sure it’s not your crew? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Chase whip his hair like that blonde before. Oh lord.” He keeps on laughing, then wipes his eyes and takes a breath.

“It could be him, but that blonde doesn’t have his posh accent. Uhn, have you said something about ‘better things we could do at home’, I swear I remember something like that.”

Wilson plays with the empty glasses on the table. “Well, at home we could play truth or dare. Some body shots. Sure, it’s not the point, but I doubt you wouldn’t get drunk.”

House rests his elbows on the table, grinning widely. “Tempting. But I don’t think we need to play truth or dare, since you’re already doing your confessions for free. Plus, you’re drunk enough for both of us. I’m having fun here, just watching you.”

James frowns, feeling more offended than he would rationally. “Ok, you’re right, I admit, I’m super drunk and I’ll give you something else to watch.” He gets up. “You can watch me on X Factor now.” He walks quickly to the waitress, ignoring House’s protests, and asks her for a song before the other could come by to stop him.

House stays where he is, frozen, trying to decide between stopping Wilson or just watching. But as he recognizes the song, a grin takes over his lips, and he gets up to come closer, still not believing the night had turned into that.

Wilson couldn’t think if anyone was judging it all or not – and not because he was too drunk to feel ashamed, because it was not the case. He just couldn’t even see the other people in the place, and actually, he couldn’t care less.

“ _It’s a rainy afternoon, in 1990.”_

His voice scratches, but it gets in the tone right after.

 _“The big city… Geez, it’s been 20 years! Candy. You were so fine._ ”

He can’t help smiling before taking a breath to go on. The tone was lower than his, but his voice adapts itself the best way it could.

_“Beautiful, beautiful girl from the north,_

_You burned my heart with a flickering torch._

_I had a dream that no one else could see_

_You gave me love for free…”_

House couldn’t tell if he was high because of the alcohol or because of the happiness that filled him. Probably both. It was just a song, but it would never be “just a song” ever again. He asks for a microphone for the waitress, and waits for his cue.

Wilson takes another big breath for the chorus.

_“Candy, candy, candy, I can’t let you go._

_All my life you’re haunting me_

_I loved you so…_

_Candy, candy, candy, I can’t let you go._

_Life is crazy… Candy, baby…”_

House’s voice comes from the middle of the crowd, in the right time.

_“Yeah, well it hurt me real bad when you left,_

_And I’m glad you got out but… But I miss you.”_

House takes a deep breath and Wilson’s fond smile is all he can see _._

_“I’ve had a hole in my heart for so long._

_I’ve learned to fake it and just smile along._

_Down on the streets those men are all the same_

_I need a love, not games…_

_Not games…”_

Their eyes were glued together as their voices rose together in the chorus, smiling so widely it nearly changed their tones. There was no one but them inside that place, and the whole wide and blue planet was inside House’s eyes, hypnotically blue, staring into warm brown eyes.

_“Candy, candy, candy, I can’t let you go._

_All my life, you’re haunting me, I loved you so…_

_Candy, candy, candy, I can’t let you go._

_Life is crazy…_

_Candy, baby.”_

“Life is really, really, really crazy.” was the sentence in an unending looping inside Wilson’s head as the song went on, and there was no need for any deeper thought. Everything he needed to feel he could hear among the music. Everything he needed to know, he was looking right at.

Just that simple, just that powerful. Just a song, just the world.

The song was reaching its end, but the sensation would live in them for years after that. Wilson had raised his voice just enough, just the last time before the volume was lower and lower, taking all that was left of his breath with it. He goes back to being dizzy, and the overwhelming sensation was a whole, mixing the echo of the music, the vibration of applause and cheers and something so unfeigned and stunning as House’s smile.

House could only see Wilson’s face, Wilson’s eyes, Wilson’s lips. As he came back to reality, he walked in his beloved’s direction and offered his hand to him. “Here love, take my hand. Let’s go home.”

James holds the offered hand and smiles greatly, unable to hear a word from the other. He’s still amazed by the never-ending ability House had to make him feel wonderful in thousands of ways, never fading. “Let’s go, Candy.”

 

The cheers fades slowly as they leave the pub and walks to House’s place. The night is chilly, and House has one arm around Wilson’s waist, keeping him near, despite the difficulty to walk with a cane and a drunken man. His heart is beating almost normally now, but his head still feels light. “What you just did…”, he begins, but changes his mind; he wouldn’t be able to explain, not this time, if ever. “I love you more and more everyday, James. Keep it in mind.”

Wilson felt as if each step of his was ethereal, like walking on clouds instead of pavement. He knew some of this was still due to alcohol, but there was nothing more inebriating than hearing those words. He stares at House and laughs once, at himself, at everything, to ensure the pure happiness inside his chest. “I guess I’ve lost count of how many times I fell in love with you for the first time only today.” Wilson’s gaze is then lost, looking at the cold empty street. “I love you too, and that’s something you’ll hear to death.”

House smiles, and keeps smiling silently until they are in his front door. Once they’re in and everything around him is quiet, he leans on the door, staring at Wilson with an unreadable spark in his eyes.

“Are you alright? You were the one who said we could walk.” James frowns weakly, getting closer.

“I’m fine. I was just wondering… Why aren’t we living together yet?” Greg’s voice is soft, carefully saying the wrong words, and to his own ears, they sound like a reproach. “I mean… I want you to be with me when I sleep and when I wake up. I want to open my closet and see your clothes next to mine.” He sighs frustrated for not being able to say exactly what he felt. “…Do you realize?”

Wilson takes a truncated breath and licks his lips, stopping in front of House. “I-I… I do. I really do. I have been thinking about it, but I always felt like I was in some unusual situation, too hurt, too angry, too drunk… Or just didn’t want to put you against the wall.” His eyes move from side to side as he tries to find the words, and he chuckles nervously. “I mean, I overthink everything . And you go there and do it. I’m really thankful for that.”

House’s hand moves slowly upwards, until his fingertips are warm in contact with his lover’s skin. “I don’t think I can live without you. What a selfish thing to say, isn’t it? But I mean it. I want to be happy by making you happy.”

“I know, I…” Wilson takes a deep breath, trying to control the mess of feelings inside him. “I don’t do much, because I’m too afraid to risk, too afraid to change what is so perfect. But don’t ever doubt I’d go to hell and back to be with you, forever. You are everything to me, and there wouldn’t be anything in this world I would want more than you waking up beside me every day as my husband.”

His eyes are terrified for a second, when he sees House’s face changing with surprise and realizes what he had just said. “Oh, God. That wasn’t what you… I didn’t… I wasn’t… Oh, God. Ok. To hell with plans. Don’t say a thing now, I’ll try to make it right at least, since I’ve spoiled it. I’m sorry I am doing it like this. But… I guess there’s no point in waiting for the perfect moment, since every moment is perfect when I’m with you. If I let it, I’ll just wait and regret and wait again, and this is nonsense. We had such an amazing night, and I don’t want to ever go to a home that’s not ours. So…” As his heart explodes in every beat inside his chest, Wilson gets down in one knee, holding House’s hand. “Will you marry me, candy?”

The world stood still around them, and House felt as if he was about to faint. Wilson’s words were running wildly through his mind, and suddenly everything else was too much. Of course Wilson would succeed on what he failed. Of course Wilson would be the one to make his entire life seem like a violent sea storm, destroying everything and killing all the hope, until the moment he finds a shore where he could rest and live in peace. He wanted to say something cool – say yes, make a joke about Wilson’s cat and take him to bed – but his mind was stuck on repeat. Wilson was waiting for an answer, looking anxious, and House wanted to scream “How could you ever think I’d say ‘no’?”. But he was feeling fragile like never before. When he realized James would be forever with him, loving, caring and supporting, he noticed how much he had always wanted it, how much he needed it. “I…” He tries to answer, but closes his eyes and sighs, feeling a wetness streaming down his own face. “You should get up, otherwise I’ll never be able to kiss my fiancé. Yes. I’ll marry you. I’ll be your husband and the happiest man in the universe.”

His voice sounded rough to him, and his words, harsh. But Wilson smiles so widely it could rip his face in two and inhales, not as if he was holding his breath, but like he was breathing for the very first time. “I-I think I can’t get up.” He laughs once, twice, something so crazy he could suffocate, but the air inside his lungs felt new, cold and fiery. He finishes kneeling, so his trembling legs could lean on the floor and try to make him get up. Suddenly, he realized the impossible obvious, with a burst of adrenalin.

His. His husband. His forever.

When he stood up, his arms held House strongly, hugging him in a way it could nearly get him out of the floor. He wanted to say “I have a ring. I swear. I bought it. I planned that and that and this.” He wanted to make sure House knew it wasn’t just an impulse, but what he wanted more than anything. Yet he knew it wasn’t needed. They’d have quite a lifetime together for him to prove everything he wanted to. Every feeling, every dream. “I am a doctor and I really don’t know anymore if having this much happiness inside my system won’t make me burst or something.” His hands could barely stay still. He gives House several kisses in the neck and cheek before locking their lips together.

It was just too surreal. House waited for the moment when he would hear the morning alarm and discover that it has been just an intense and vivid dream, that Wilson was just his best friend and nothing had changed. But the moment never came. All of a sudden, happiness had taken over him, and he couldn’t control himself anymore. The tears streamed down his face and he didn’t  wiped it off or tried to hide them. It had to be real. He felt his limbs going weak and Wilson’s touch was the only thing keeping him on his feet. It was so common – people got married every day and he had always been skeptical about love – but only now, with the perspective of a shared life with his best friend, he could really understand. It wasn’t foolish. It wasn’t foolish at all.

James stops kissing Greg, because he was out of any breath and his lips were not able to stop smiling. He lets their foreheads together and puts his hands on the other’s face, wiping those tears with his thumbs. He didn’t know why he wasn’t crying even harder, he pondered he was just too in shock. Maybe, in the middle of that same night, when they were in bed together and his heartbeats stopped racing, he’d silently hug House’s asleep body and those marvelous tears would eventually come.

House clears his throat. “I… Can we go to bed already? I need to sit or something like that.”

“Yes, yes. Please.” Wilson holds House’s hand and walk to the bedroom, still breathing irregularly. They had walked that same path uncountable times, but now it felt different. It was like beginning again. Walking into that room made Wilson giggle foolishly. Not Greg’s bedroom. _Theirs_. Sure, they could move to his place instead, but there was something inside those walls there that embraced him like home. He carefully guides House to lie down as they inched to the bed. _Their_ bed.

It was a sort of choreography, without rush. Eternity seemed to be on their side. House felt the mattress underneath him and breathed deeply. When he had left his bedroom earlier that night, he couldn’t imagine everything would change so completely all of a sudden. But now there was a new confidence sparkling in Wilson’s eyes, and it was a reminder of how they belonged to each other, more and more.

With House beneath his body and between his arms, Wilson’s smile isn’t taken over by the crazy anxiety like before; it took the silent unbreakable satisfaction that warmed his body and caressed all his senses. His lips touched the skin right under the other’s ear and, mouth closed, he inhaled deeply, to fill his lungs with House’s smell and perfume. “We are the luckiest ones.”, whispers throatily. It wasn’t for everyone. Once he even thought it wasn’t for him. But life…. _Life is crazy_. Best and simplest lyrics in the world. The universal truth, for everyone to see.

House’s fingers were soon entangled in Wilson’s hair, and he could only nod in agreement, careful not to break the spell. He brings his fiancé’s lips to his own, thinking that “lucky” is a really poor word to describe his fortune. Knowing that he was loved so deeply was a really overwhelming sensation, and he still felt dizzy remembering his lover’s words and the look on his face, so sweet, so immeasurably breathtaking. His happiness was taking over him, and he couldn’t help breaking the kiss with a laugh of pure joy.

James had his muscles twisting in contradiction; the will to take House’s lips and body and appease the rush in his blood, trying to satisfy the wondrous need he had for him. On the other hand, he could just stay there and look inside his eyes indefinitely, like someone lied down on the grass watching the blue sky on a warm afternoon, with the wind blowing chilly. He’d have both, and whatever came in between. His hands wandered through Greg’s waist and chest, and his fingers loosened one button of his shirt. He pressed his lips against House’s chest and leaned his forehead in it, again breathing deeply. He could laugh too. He couldn’t avoid thinking of something about fortune and fate, to try to let his mind believe that he had, indeed, the genius’ heart. The bitter man’s sweetness. The hard man’s tears. That he was as loved as he could love. Taken over by that overwhelming sensation once again, he hugged Greg’s body, leaning his head in his future husband’s chest.

When House finally stops laughing, the memories of a drunk Wilson fills his head. Their duet. The crowd around him. How he’d looked with his flushed cheeks and the big grin never leaving his face. “Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable, did you know that? I wish I had recorded you singing there. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life. The only thing you needed to look even hotter was a leather jacket. Next time, don’t forget to take one.”

“I won’t forget it, sure.” Wilson laughs, his fingers playing with the fabric of House’s shirt. It was like that for me too. Who’d say. Thank God I didn’t drink any more.” He leans on his elbows and forearms, looking at his fiancé. “And you should sing more. Your voice is astonishing.”

“Oh, no. The fans would break arms or fake a fever to go to the hospital see me. It would be pure madness. I’m not one to bear a life of fame and late night shows.” Gregory’s voice lowers to a whisper. “But I can sing for you anytime you want it. You just need to ask nicely.”

“It’s for the best, you’re right.” James lifts his body to align their faces and starts to speak dramatically. “Imagine all those fans harassing you, touching you, wanting the attention and love of the brilliant doctor, singer and musician. No. Keep on being really antisocial, my antisocial. You are too easy to fall in love with otherwise.”

“And you’d be a great writer, with all these dramatic lines of yours.” House chuckles, delighted. “But don’t worry, my love and attention belongs to you and only you… My fiancé.” He smiles and pulls Wilson to him in a passionate kiss, his mind not clouded because of the shock anymore, but full of a fierce and growing need for the other’s touch, wanting to feel the new reality surrounding him and letting it consume his soul completely. Wilson holds House’s waist, grabbing the fabric of his shirt, letting the need he felt for the man in his arms to be translated into strength and will, into decided and firm movements bringing the other closer. His hands found their way up their chests once again, and he starts to unbutton the other’s shirt, deepening the kiss, knowing it was the cue for him to bend to the ablaze side of that contradiction he was before.

Wilson was everywhere – his lips, his hands and his limbs moving without hesitation, seeming determined to absorb him in every possible way. Some minutes later, their shirts were tossed carelessly on the floor, and he was finally able to feel Wilson’s heart beating against his own chest. Skin has always been a mesmerizing thing, and touching another person’s skin would never be an ordinary occurrence, but Wilson’s skin felt even more magnificent beneath his fingers. That skin was sensitive to his touch and had that characteristic smell he loved. That skin felt particularly significant because it was part of the object of his affection, the love of his life. He could never get enough of it.

The tip of Wilson’s nose skimmed in House’s cheek as his lips went down the line of the other’s jaw, feeling the subtle stings of his fiancé quite permanently unshaven beard. He loved to feel that scratching, but there wasn’t a single thing about it all he didn’t, so it was nearly redundant to point out. However, he would, every time. His mouth touched House’s throat and he could feel the throbbing of the carotid a little accelerated, and his lips twisted in a smile – it happened every once in a while, unconscious, like a spasm of happiness. His hands on Greg’s torso, palms pressing against the other’s ribs, the tip of his fingers by his nipples… He could hear carefully every alteration in his lover’s breath, and he knew by now what to do to make it happen. Wilson was careful and attentive, House was cunning and observant. They had it perfectly matched. It could only get better every time.

Sometimes, House wondered if James always touched his sensitive spots or if he was made entirely of sensitive spots himself. His breath was caught on his throat in one moment, and in the next the air seemed to leave his lungs completely. His arms felt like an independent entity, pressing Wilson’s body to his own before he even noticed. He was desperate for more, more touch, more skin, more heartbeats, more short breaths in his ear. His hands played with the waistband of his lover’s pants, with a look in his eyes expressing what he wanted next; just a tiny line of blue visible in the low light of the bedroom. Wilson locks his eyes on that amazing irises, his silence saying ‘yes’ as many times as his heart beats. He could easily just do it; just open his own trousers and get rid of them. It was even easier, due to the arousal that was beginning to make his body truly respond – but that was something for House to decide. It was even better to be entirely and profoundly on his hands, to be explored and tasted, to be somehow just his to play. Nevertheless, the man under him was just as much his as well, so he’d slide his left hand to the crotch of his lover’s pants, his fingers meticulously covering every shape and curve in the fabric. Of course they would need more time, but the response itself, alongside of the sound of House’s unsteady breath and the very sight of his expression made another flush of stimulus flood Wilson’s system, and, as his smile turned into a grin, he bent down to kiss House’s shoulder.

Since he wasn’t expecting such reaction, Gregory couldn’t even think about holding back the surprised low moan that seemed to came from every bit of his body. His heart was hammering his chest mercilessly, and the air in the room wasn’t enough. James’ hand felt like a generator, converting his own body heat into electricity and making his lower abdomen sting with the miscellaneous sensations. Wilson’s grin demonstrated how much he were enjoying that little game of his – House could even hear him thinking “Let’s see how much Greg can stand before begging.” His fingers were pressing his lover’s lower back strongly, and he unconsciously started to move, wanting more of that sensation being shot straight to his heart.

When the first movement started, Wilson gasped faintly. In between the kiss, his teeth skimmed and a soft bite locked in the base of House’s neck. The reaction made the air ignite inside his lungs, and it came out parching against the skin he tasted. His right hand then also went down and helped the left to open the other man’s pants – although, when he managed it, pulling it out of House’s legs was a whole new task he performed in some worshiping way. He kneeled on the bed and carefully held the sides of the piece of clothing, slowly pulling it not to pain his lover in any way. Separating their bodies was impossibly hard, but he didn’t mind – taking care of Greg was always more important. He had to get up for a moment, and noticed House just let him; let him even take his shoes off and, getting rid of those pants, he came back to the bed, as if they have never stopped at all. He slid his hands throughout his body, with an iridescent shine in his eyes. He ended up with his mouth against the other’s chest, feeling the heartbeats and being intoxicated and dazed by House’s very existence all over again. He takes a deep, truncated breath in beneath his teeth. “You are so…” And suddenly he’s unable to finish, because he didn’t know what he wanted to say. It was a moan his throat needed to let out for some reason.

Wilson’s voice sounded so pure and raw with desire that the air between them could be as well full of sparks, provoking an explosion in his mind. He licks the interior of James’ ear just slightly and whispers, almost voiceless, while his fingertips trace circles on his lover’s back slowly, ghosting over warm sensitive skin. “I am… what? Tell me, James.”

Wilson aligns their faces, brushing the tip of his nose in House’s face until their mouths are right in front of each other; lips parted, arching puffing breath. “Everything. You’re everywhere in me and you’re… making me lose my mind.” His voice sounded more like a sough, as he breathed the poorly oxygenated air. House gives him a half-grin, the left corner of his mouth moving upwards just enough to express how much he enjoyed hearing that. His teeth lock James’ lower lip in a teasing bite, and he separates their mouths slowly, calculating every movement.

“If I’m making you lose your mind… then I’m doing it right. But let me make a confession: My mind’s lost since the first time I kissed you.” Greg’s voice was even lower than before, and it made James close his eyes, letting out a soft, weak laughter of joy that sounded more like air exhaling incoherently. He knew if he started to say something about what he was feeling, he’d talk forever. More than that – he’d never be any closer to say it all. And, God helped him, he couldn’t afford that right now. His pants were made of sandpaper and his mind was delightfully going numb, drowning itself in endorphin, and the only way Wilson found to express himself was in another kiss, while his arms went between the mattress and House’s body to hug him, bringing his body so close it was like he was trying to defy physics.

Greg couldn’t decide what felt better: the obviously pleasurable physical contact or Wilson’s reaction to him. Desiring and being object of someone else’s desire, that was the whole point. In between kisses, with his voice almost failing, he asks. “Why are you still wearing your pants?”

James stays still for a moment. There was an answer before – did it had something to do with letting House decide when, or was it to provoke him? “I have no fucking idea.”, he pants, voiceless, and his hands rushes to his own button. Since he arched his spine to undress, his face was down and his lips were by House’s chest again – he let himself bite it, regretting it in the next moment having done it so fiercely, and just kissing it afterwards. When the fabric of his pants clung in his underwear for a second, he just got rid of them both.

But that bite was something new. Wilson was always the kind and sweet lover, and, without warning, some deeper part of him emerged. Observing and cataloguing information was part of House’s being, and every little thing he knew about James Wilson was in the tip of his tongue. The thought that he’d come to know almost everything about him as time went by made him shiver – and Wilson might have thought it was because of the bite, for soon he kissed the place softly, as an excuse. House felt frustrated somehow. He didn’t want any more apologies from his lover, he didn’t want him to hold back any words or actions because of some lesser fear. He calls his name almost like a prayer.

“James. Tonight, I want all of you. Don’t hold back anything. Give it all to me… Please.”

Wilson looks up at House, frowning slightly. He knew the sentence wasn’t just some sort of craving beg, as it looked like, but he just couldn’t figure out its true meaning. Maybe it had something to do with the bite, but why would it? “This is all of me.”, he says, the certainty tone sounding a bit too reassuring. He corrects his tone and his voice grazes out of his throat as he whispers. “With you, I am finally all of me.” His eyes goes down to the underwear and he holds the tightened rubber band of its, pulling it down to House’s shins to undress him for good. When he inclines himself upon his lover again, only skin against skin and not a single piece of fabric in between them, he placed his head beside the other’s. even though House already had his hands on him, Wilson held them both, clasping and pressing them against his own torso. “This is all of me, for you to have it.”

All of James was always taking care of Greg. Maybe that was a sick behavior, maybe no one asked him to. But we all have our personal vices, something so overwhelming it gets in the way of what one would do if they weren’t there. We all have our personal vices – for all the means, Gregory House was his vice.

Greg obliges his mind to stay focused instead of losing itself on the familiar feeling of his lover’s body pressed against every fibre of his own. “You’re mine and I’m yours.”, he says, inspiring deeply to capture the smell of the feverish skin. “What I’m trying to say is: I want to know every single thing about you. If I could count the amount of hair on your head, I would.” His lips traces a way of wet kisses on Wilson’s shoulder. “You said you were losing control…” His hands move around the other male’s body, pressing the skin to feel the muscles underneath it. “…then lose it. I want to see what you look like when you lose control.”

All he wanted was to rub his body senselessly against Wilson’s, all the proximity was driving him insane. But he always had his way with James, always tasting, touching, pressing, savouring everything that was to savour. Now he was letting Wilson decide. House wasn’t used to give in, but he had absolutely nothing to lose giving in to his husband-to-be. They belonged to each other in every way already, and everything else was just minor details.

With House’s mouth right by his ear, the voice was another entity possessing Wilson entirely and utterly. “I want to know everything about you”, it vibrated; but the very meaning was incoherent as it seemed to pour from Wilson’s own soul out to his skin. His fingers grasped slowly in the sheets. “Then lose it.” Lose it; the omnipresent order hypnotized what was left of his conscience and made his lungs give up hopelessly. His hands clung in House’s hips immediately after and brought them against his own, one strong, ravenous movement as his recalcitrant breath sagged out of his mouth, withering into a moan, which was mirrored by House. That sound was one of pure satisfaction, as they began to grind against each other rhythmically, Wilson breathing erratically on his lover’s ear, the room around them disappearing amidst the fog that took over their minds. The hands, always precise, felt like jelly, holding loosely on the unstoppable hips. Open-mouthed kisses were pressed into feverish skin, and they were the very centre of the universe now, the last men on earth, the matter clasping itself tightly before the Big Bang.

James’ head was spinning faster than the world, creating a whole new gravity pulling their bodies closer. The pleasure was making the walls crumble down, but there was something else pinning a light inside his messed up reason. Lose it, House had said. “Wait.” All of a sudden, his arms straightened and he pushed his body away from Greg – it felt like shattering glass. Like breaking the violent fury and watching everything crash due to inertia. Still sinking among the dizziness, his reddish lips mumbled something near voiceless. “I… I do want something.”

It was something that he was ready for since he left his place earlier that night, without having the slightest idea that everything would end up that way. And it wasn’t the first time, but it could feel like. He reached for the nightstand by the bed and opened the drawer where he knew Greg kept his condoms and lube, and even the fact that he knew it so exactly felt like it was all some sort of synchronized dance. When his eyes turned back to his lover laying back with a question on his eyes, he smirks. “It’s not for me.” He bites the tip of the condom packing and rips the plastic. Going upon his lover’s body one more time, back to the heat his skin was already resentful of not being embraced by, he leaned his forehead in House’s again. Breathing heavily, his hands went down, and looking at it for a moment, he unrolled the condom with one precise, briefly anxious movement. Before saying anything at all, he kissed the other’s mouth, and, as their lips went on sinfully taking each other, his fingers covered it all. The lust of the gesture pulsed wistful, just like his lover’s veins against his palm. “I want you… right where you are… and inside me.” The air filled up with lecher scratched out of his vocal chords, and House couldn’t help breathing deeply as his eyes closed automatically, unable to control his own reactions anymore. He wanted to say ‘yes’, ‘please’, anything, but the words seemed to be stolen from him. The first thing that came into his mind was his lover’s name and he said it in a low raw voice; every cell of his body anticipating the moment they’d be as close and united as they could. Wilson’s hand holding the painfully hard flesh was driving him mad. Later he could think about how they were both controlling and being controlled at the same time, later he could kiss his fiancé sweetly and sing him love songs – in that moment, everything was about giving and receiving, a desperate and irrational seek for more and more physical pleasure. His fingers traced Wilson’s spine, his blood pulsing through his veins loudly, as he pulled his lover to another kiss, inebriated by the amount of hormones being released into his bloodstream.

Sometimes, mainly in that night, the whole reality seemed to break down in half. It was one of those moments. The unbelievable clutched inside James’ chest several times, and there he was, nervous again, freezing inside. It was just anxiety, pure, distilled into the most blazing excitement he could ever experience. He hiccoughed and his thighs cramped when he changed his position into kneeling, by both sides of House’s torso. At that moment, rolling eyes, he could laugh if it weren’t so suffocating. He could choke, if it weren’t so vitalizing. He could cry, if it weren’t so raging. And he could sting, if it weren’t so funny. His mouth was wide open and the air stagnated inside his lungs lit on fire. Everything around him was a kaleidoscope, every inch of his body was a hallucination, and, as his arms were nearly trembling, he could only look inside House’s eyes so deeply it could have been him who was immersing inside of House, instead of the opposite. Those eyes he had already scrutinized every line were the most amazing place to be lost inside, the calm pond of light blue water among the storm of fire that was raging outside it.

Body heat being exchanged, temperature rising more and more each second. They could as well melt in that bed and become part of an uniform mixture of atoms. The carbon that constituted their molecules was just about to be combusted in an inevitable explosion. The frequency of Wilson’s breath combined with his moans and moves were driving House almost near the edge;  he felt too much and, at the same time, too little. He could feel all of Wilson, but his own limbs seemed to have gone numb, even if they were moving frenetically to bring his lover as close as possible. That confusion was part of the process, something he would never try to understand, knowing it would be in vain. Kant had once postulated about the beautiful and the sublime, in a time long forgotten by the two lovers on the bed; how the beautiful was something relatively easy to understand and accept as something good, while the sublime frightened and mesmerized the observer with its majesty and greatness. Wilson was both beautiful and sublime, and House could almost feel afraid of the side effects of their relationship, like losing some intrinsic part of his personality, or giving up his interests ‘in the name of love’. But at the same time the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it – relationships were always that way, and he would throw himself fearlessly in the way of the hurricane, knowing that in its interior he would find his peace.

There was something echoing amid every synapse inside James’ brain, as messages sent from everywhere in his mind and body. If they could be read fully, they would make a precious piece. Breathe, even though you know there’s no help from drowning. Seize, even though you will fall – and, when you do it, just look at the sky and see how much they look like House’s eyes. Let yourself sink entirely into that red-hot mess and slide your hands all over the man you have under your body, along the shine of his sweat. Just grind your teeth and let your voice come out between them fiercely, no holding back. Forget the concept of shame itself and be ridiculous and outrageous, craving and wild, for the world is made just of you two, and the room could as well be everything. In the end, the roar of two lovers, the mundane sound of flesh against flesh and the bed forcing its own structure will sound just like the most beautiful orchestra that has ever played in this world. But it wasn’t that coherent and well-knit message anymore. It was something shattered, ripped in half in every movement. And Wilson just knew it, never being able to codify it this precisely. He’d play with the words and the numbers like a children and every rush of hormones inside his brain spit punctual stupid things like ‘want’, ‘need’, ‘love’, or even ‘bite it’, ‘grasp it’, ‘kiss it’, ‘go on’, ‘please’, ‘yes’, alongside with the unending swearing that escaped once in a while so unbelieving on what he had that he’d never let it go without disintegrate.

There he was. All of him. For the first time, every time, all of him.

They were heading together to the centre of the Earth. Pleasure was burning Gregory’s veins and all he could do was touch his lover’s body, the only reality that survived that chaos. The sensations were almost unbearable, and when they reached the climax, he couldn’t tell if the explosion was only in his mind or if he had really gone blind and deaf due to it. He knew James was somewhere near him, and he was sure the other would find him there, left boneless in some strange surface, helpless and in a state of pure joy and completeness.

In the ultimate moments their muscles couldn’t stay still, and James had his torso up again, with his head tilted back, between calling the other’s name and swearing in a minute the whole strands of ‘fuck’ it could be said, the rhapsody of lust he needed to hear in order to be enraptured to that feverish apex. Leaning his hands in the bed, about to faint by breathing the same air that was amid the fire alighting from their pores, he grasped the pillow and his short breaths were more like whimpers, like begging. Every information he was processing, everything he had said and done, every beautiful thought reduced into true swearing and blaspheming, he closed with his mouth against Greg’s lips, holding his face with the tip of his fingers and all delicacy. Even right after they had their selves lit on Hell’s flames, they kissed so softly and naively as two loving angels.

The kiss was gentle and slow, nothing compared to the savageness that possessed them before. That was probably the longest and strongest afterglow of House’s life. Even when his breath became less hurried and Wilson’s sweaty face was visible under the low-light again, he felt like floating on water, waves of almost overwhelming sensations coming now and then and crashing against his still overly sensitive skin, causing him to shiver. Once the flames were gone, having nothing left to consume, he was able to caress his fiancé’s face with all the tenderness he felt for that wonderful man, that beautiful soul, that magnificent being that was James Wilson. He was feeling the numbness taking over of his exhausted body, so he started to sing softly to keep himself awake. “Candy, candy, candy, I can’t let you go…”

While every piece of James tried to find its place, he forced his own trembling limbs to move and adjust to a good position to just release his body. House’s voice started to wave in the ai, hoarse and velvetish, and he lies down upon his lover’s body, sure that the wide smile one day would just stuck in his face for good. All he could hear was that marvelous song and House’s heartbeats, and it embraced him so tightly he knew he would be asleep in heaven in the next minutes, hugging the man he admired and loved the most; Gregory House, that fantastic entropy sparkling and coloring every corner of his regular, commonplace life, making it extraordinary. His fingers ran to House’s hand, drawing the lines of his skin, before interlacing them. He accompanies the music with his own voice, just whispering, and somehow it matched the beating of House’s heart. “Life is crazy… Candy, baby….”

Greg kisses Wilson’s lips softly when the song ends, feeling love filling every inch of his body. They’d still have to clean themselves, but the thought sounds so mundane, so far from the higher ground where they lie embraced in themselves, that he couldn’t make up his mind to just do it. All he wanted was to sleep with Wilson lying on his chest, with his arm around his waist. Reality was a far away place. “My beloved fiancé. My everything.” Words are just words, but their meaning carries a promise of love and care and years and years of happiness.

“My only one.” Wilson could only whisper, trying not to break it, while his fingertips still caress the other’s sweaty skin. As everything inside that room was reason-proof, he let himself repeat every silly word, every cliché, because nothing written before could match what it truly meant there, to be bound together for life with his best friend and the most brilliant and unique human being. “My forever.” He couldn’t get up even if he wanted to, and there wasn’t anything in the world he would want less. Somehow he wanted to make time stop, to be there all the time, but his imagination wanders alone through the sea of possibilities for their future, and he is sure that living with House would turn out to be full of intensity. Every moment, good or bad, happy or sad, would build the life they’d cherish, and he couldn’t wait to have it.

That crazy night.

That amazingly crazy life.


End file.
